


Tears Are Heard Within the Harp I Touch

by Elf (Elfwreck)



Category: 4'33" - John Cage (Song), October Daye Series - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Folklore, Gen, Historical Fantasy, Music, Musicians, No Canon Required, Pseudo-Renaissance Era, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwreck/pseuds/Elf
Summary: Kendrick is a uniquely talented bard. Lord Threston doesn't appreciate his skills.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 32
Collections: Hold Your Fire No Canon Required, Yuletide 2019





	Tears Are Heard Within the Harp I Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [republic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/republic/gifts).



> Republic, thanks for the prompts that inspired this! I hadn't intended to write a crossover but the idea just snapped into place that way.  
> Beta'd by the very helpful R~ who caught several facepalm-worth errors; any that remain are all my fault.

Kendrick was fairly sure Lord Edmond Threston didn't like him. Kendrick was also fairly sure everyone else in the great hall knew it, since Lord Threston was glaring at him while he set up his harp and adjusted his bench.

Lord Threston didn't believe Kendrick was playing real music, much less "music for the Fair Folk," and that was, perhaps, a reasonable belief, since Kendrik's gilt-and-bejeweled harp had no strings. But he was famous as a "fae-touched musician," so he'd been hired to lend an air of sophistication to the very rough, very crude new holdings. And it looked like Lord Threston was now regretting the expense of a harper who played music nobody could hear. 

Kendrick looked away from the dais where Threston had set himself on a throne of simple oak boards, and adjusted the tuning pegs that attached to nothing. He flexed his fingers, adjusted his velvet sleeves, and started to lean over the instrument, humming softly so the ladies near him could convince themselves they'd heard real fairy music.

"Stop!" Threston called out, and Kendrick's hands froze. The knight stomped down from his throne until he loomed over Kendrick. "I will have no more of your deceits! You sit every night in my hall, feast at my table and cast eyes upon the ladies of my court, and you bring me no music."

"My lord," Kendrick began smoothly, "my music is too rare for human ears; it draws on the stars and sea, and it calls to those--"

"Yes, I've heard your lies," he said. "Your music is 'fae music.' How convenient that we have nobody in the court with a drop of fae blood. Why, you might be making no music at all, just spreading lies and lining your pockets. I pay you to entertain, and I am not entertained." 

"Most esteemed sir, I have great sorrow that you cannot--" 

"Shut up. Tonight, we shall have the accounting of your tricks. I have hired someone to listen to your 'music' and tell me the very truth of your playing." 

Kendrick fought to keep his face calm as he looked up. "Oh? And who would that be? A bishop, trained in the esoteric arts, perhaps? Or--"

"SILENCE!" The cuff was hard enough to make Kendrick's head ring, and he swallowed a whimper. No sign of weakness would help his position in this court. 

Lord Threston huffed and stomped back to the dais holding his makeshift throne. He faced Kendrick with a malicious smirk and gestured at the hulking man to his right.

"Guardsman, bring forth our guest."

The guard bowed and left the room. Lord Threston drew a small chest out from behind the throne and pulled an animal skin from it to place upon his lap.

The guard returned with a woman wearing fine but ragged clothes. Her dress was light and silken but torn, unhemmed at the bottom with deep slashes up the sides. It was pale _glas_ , the color of water, part green and part blue and part grey, shifting colors as she walked. The neckline had pearls, but only a few, placed randomly as if it had held more but they had fallen off. More pearls gleamed on the bodice, even more near the waist, all scattered but more numerous as they trailed down the back to a train that was so thick with pearls that they covered the fabric and slithered behind her like a white, shining eel. 

Her face was young and pale but her eyes were dark and sharp, and her ears came to tiny narrow tips. Her hair was wet and thick and heavy, and her hands, clenching and unclenching at her sides, had long, cruel claws. 

She stopped before the dais and pointed at the skin.

"That belongs to me."

"Not yet, it doesn't," said Lord Threston. "It belongs to me. My grandfather killed the beast himself, and won our family these lands. My own exploits have won me this fine hall, and I mean to build on my family's legacy."

Kendrick saw her twitch at the mention of the selkie's death, and saw her scowl deepen.

Threston spoke again, more to the room than to her. "Welcome to my abode, Lady Sea Witch. I hope that you will see fit to do business with me tonight."

Kendrick went pale, but no eyes were on him. _The sea witch! She would know his music was a sham!_

The sea witch didn't so much as glance his way. "I will have the selkie skin from you, if that's what you mean." 

"I mean you to uphold your bargain. Listen to my bard, and tell me true if he plays the music of the fae, and I will give you the skin." 

She started to lunge at him, but four guards snapped into place, pointing wicked iron-tipped spears at her. One of them brushed her arm, where the tattered sleeves of her gown fell open, and she hissed; a bright red line appeared on her skin. She scowled at the knight on his throne.

"This, then, is our bargain. One song for the skin. If you try to withhold it…" She smiled at Sir Threston, and Kendrick shivered at the poison in that smile. "If you try to withhold it, I will bring the full wrath of the sea on your domain, and I will save a very special kind of death for you personally. We shall find out how long it can take for a man to drown." 

Threston's confidence faltered, but then he nodded firmly. "Agreed. One song, and the truth, and you may have the skin."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and then turned sharply away, walking across the hall to where Kendrick sat with his golden harp. She circled around him, weaving and ducking, trailing her fingers near the harp but not touching it. 

She stood next to the harp and faced him, and spoke softly in his mother-tongue, nearly unknown in this land.

_"That harp has never known music."_

He bowed his head and murmured in response. "Milady." _Please_ , he didn't say. _Please, I am only trying to survive. Please, I have harmed no one, only brought the hope of a touch of magic to this mean place. Please, Lady, don't let Threston kill me as he's killed every entertainer who's displeased him._

She seemed to hear him anyway. "Do you have another instrument?" she asked, not unkindly.

He swallowed. "Only my apprentice harp," he said, and then whispered, "but--but it also has no strings." 

She waved that away, turned to the nearest guard and said imperiously, "This instrument is unfit for my ears. Send someone to fetch his other harp." 

The guard turned to his lord, who frowned but nodded. A page ran off, and soon brought Kendrick's worn and shabby apprentice harp. It was smaller than the grand golden harp he had "played" for years, and of course, it had no gems, no carved scrollwork on its side. Kendrick tried to keep his hands from shaking as he took it and set the larger harp to the side.

Threston looked at it. "That? You want him to play _that_ shoddy thing?"

The sea witch looked at him (and Kendrick hoped dearly that nobody ever, ever looked at him like that), and said flatly, "Yes."

"But why? It's a bundle of sticks!"

"This gaudy thing," she gestured at the harp Kendrick had been using, "has paint for gold and glass for gems; whatever music it holds will not please me. The one he has now is humble. I like a bit of humility in a human," and she smiled with sharp pointed teeth.

Kendrick grasped his old harp with both hands, like a shield that could protect him… but the whole court was waiting for him to play. He set it down, and woodenly went through his routine: twisting the stringless pegs (except for the two missing ones, and not spending any time on the one that was warped shut), tapping his fingers against the side of the instrument as if checking its tone (dull and muffled), adjusting his sleeves (and his belt, and his trousers), all while the court stood waiting, and Lord Threston huffed quietly. Even he knew not to interrupt a performance for the sea witch.

Eventually, Kendrick had done all the warming up he could claim to do, and he sighed. He looked over at the sea witch and found her looking back at him with sad eyes.

She spoke again, softly. _"I cannot lie for you, boy. The most I can offer is a quick death if you face worse from your fellow men."_

He gulped, and nodded. There was some solace in that, in the idea of avoiding whatever tortures Threston would devise for him. 

"What's that, then?" Threston broke in. "What's she saying to you? No secrets in my court!" 

Kendrick managed not to roll his eyes. Threston's court was nothing but a tangle of secrets. He licked his lips before answering.

"My Lord, she offered me a quick death if… if my music isn't pleasing enough."

Threston huffed, and settled back into his throne. The sea witch _winked_ at Kendrick. So. There was one more secret before he died.

He put his fingers over the spots where the strings should be, and started to hum tunelessly, trying to decide how to begin his final performance.

The sea witch waved her hand at him, and his voice vanished. Kendrick choked, and grabbed his throat. He could breathe, but… no sound! He could not speak! He turned to her and mouthed, _What have you done to me?_

"No humming. No singing. I want to hear the music you make with the harp, not your voice." She then took pity on his panic. "I'll return your voice when you're done, boy. Just play." She gave him a long stare, full of meaning he could not reach, and eventually he nodded. 

_Just play._

If he was going to die after this song, he'd make it the performance of a lifetime.

He placed his hands over the places where the strings should be, and suddenly knew what to do. He shaped the opening chords of "Lady Odivere," the sad, aching ballad of the woman who fell in love with a selkie when her husband was long away. 

The sea witch looked sharply at his hands, like she knew the shape of the song. _She must_ , he thought. _The selkies are her people, and she probably even knows if the song is true._ He could not sing, with his voice cut off, but he could mouth the words as his hands plucked invisible strings, as he rocked in time to a tune nobody could hear, silently singing about the selkie claiming his child:

> "I'm come to fetch me bairn away  
>  Farewell, for thou'rt another's wife."  
>  "I'll wed thee with a golden ring  
>  And bide beside thee all my life."
> 
> "Thou would not when I would, goodwife  
>  I will not, when thou'rt willing now  
>  That day thou lost, thou'll never find  
>  It's late, it's over-late to rue."
> 
> The lady lives a lonely life  
>  And often looks upon the sea  
>  Still hoping her true love to find  
>  But doubtful that can ever be. 

Around him, silence. The court fidgeted but did not speak as they usually did when he "played." Even the guards were quiet, though they usually diced and ate while the ladies watched him. Everyone watched him now. The sea witch herself watched him avidly, watched every chord that made no sound, every strum of his fingers that brought no echo.

As she watched, a great sea mist rose in the room, dimming the fire and thickening the air, until it swirled around Kendrick and his harp. His fingers made the fog twist and ripple, until he could almost believe he was touching real strings, playing real music. 

He closed his eyes and fell into the song as he hadn't in years, not since he was a child who still believed he might play a real harp someday. He felt tears prickle his eyes when the selkie-lord claimed his child, and felt one fall when the mother learned of her child's death. He was glad, fiercely glad, of the sea witch's curse, that nobody could hear the sob in his throat when Lady Odivere was locked away in an iron room, far from her selkie-love, and sentenced to be burned. And then his hands danced lightly, quickly, when San Imravoe the selkie-lord rescued her.

As he brought the song to its close--"The lady fair was clean away, and never more by mortal seen"--he slowed, bowing his head, and let his hands drop. Slowly, the mist faded and vanished. Slowly, the court sounds began: first a sigh, then someone whispering "If that's not fairy music, I don't know what is," then a giggle, and then suddenly people were talking, laughing, arguing a bit too loud, to help themselves forget the strangeness in their midst.

Kendrick looked down. There was no blood on his fingertips, as there would've been if he'd really played. His hands ached like they hadn't in years, since he'd tried the real chords that his fingers couldn't reach, couldn't strike fast enough. His harp was still poorly made of mismatched woods, barely suitable for a beginner to learn on. There had been no ringing ballad to ignite the hearts of the court. His music was all in his mind, not in his hands, and he had no fae magic to offer.

He closed his eyes again, and nodded. He'd take the sea witch's offer, rather than wait to discover what punishments Threston would enact. He could die with the memory of one good song, even if the song was a lie.

Lord Threston broke into his thoughts. "What say you, Lady Sea Witch? I heard nothing, saw only a dandied fop swaying like a madman over his harp. Did he play music not heard by mortal ears, or is he but a filthy worm-tongued rogue who has stolen his way into my court?"

The sea witch looked at Kendrick, and he looked back at her. _Please, make it quick._ Then she turned away from him and looked to Lord Threston.

"I swear to you, by sea and sky and the bones of lost children, _that_ was a performance worthy of the court of Titania herself." While Kendrick looked up in shock, she continued, "Never have I met a mortal with stronger music in his soul." 

She stepped away from Kendrick and stalked to the throne. "And now, Edmond Threston, you will give me the selkie skin you hold, because that was our bargain, and all the iron spears and shackles in this whole kingdom will not protect you if you break a bargain with the sea witch." 

She held out one claw-fingered hand, but rather than wait for him to hand it over, she snatched the skin from his lap. She clutched it to her, almost like a hug, like she knew the selkie who'd worn it. Maybe she did, Kendrick thought. Maybe the sea witch knew all the selkies. He wondered who he was, the selkie that Lord Threston's grandfather had killed. 

While Kendrick was pondering, the sea witch slashed at Lord Threston's face, leaving three bright red lines.

"Guards!" he yelled, but she had already stepped back, and raised one hand in a gesture that could only mean _magic_. She spoke to them.

"I have what I came for. If you want a fight, I am entirely willing to kill the entire retinue of a man who held a selkie skin hostage."

They faltered, and settled on circling defensively around Lord Threston rather than moving toward her. He seethed, but did not order them to attack.

She walked away, her pearl-heavy train slithering behind her. She turned when she reached the door.

"Lord Threston," she said. 

"Sea witch," he responded.

"I recommend you get that young man a better harp."

"And why, pray tell, would I do that? The gold one is good enough for my court, and that… thing… is apparently good enough for the fae."

"Because 'good enough' isn't the same as 'best possible,' and I might stop in from time to time to visit. I like his music." And with that, she turned around and left, letting the doors slam shut behind her.

Lord Threston looked at Kendrick, and for a moment, Kendrick thought he was going to be executed. Then he realized--and saw the same realization dawn on Threston's face--that he was now under the sea witch's protection.

For his song that no one could hear. 

Kendrick's life as a court bard had just gotten very strange.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Kendrick played is [Lady Odivere (Grey Silkie 3)](http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/folk-song-lyrics/Lady_Odivere\(Grey_Silkie_3\).htm). It's an older, more complete version of "The Great Silkie of Sule Skerry."


End file.
